


Just a Kiss

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan says, "You're good with kissing, right?" and Chris feels like he's one answer away from a job he never anticipated and already loves, or being sent packing back to Clovis and a life of loneliness and mediocrity.</p><p>So he stutters out an, "Of course." Because he's an actor, and actors are expected to do certain things.</p><p>It's not until that moment, when it's suddenly a possibility, that Chris thinks he might not be so okay with it after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Brief mentions of Chris kissing other people (Heather, Max, OMC).

When Chris does his first acting gig, he's so young that he doesn't even think of girls (or boys, as he would shortly discover) as anything other than potential friends. When he stands on a stage for the first time, the thought that one day he might have to interact romantically with someone while acting isn't present in his mind at all. No, he's trying to remember his lines and try not to throw up because he feels so nervous, and he's excited. He's a little boy—there's no reason to think of anything else.

He grows up. He likes boys. High school happens, and he has misguided crushes that he has no hope of ever seeing come to fruition. Not that he would ever try to make them into anything. He would never try to take that chance, not in Clovis.

So he graduates without ever having a boyfriend, or having his first kiss, or really thinking that he'll ever get out of his home town and find those things somewhere else.

Glee is unexpected. Glee is a chance audition that he doesn't put too much stock into and it all just sort of happens. Chris still doesn't think very much about romantic possibilities—he'll be playing a gay teen on a national television show, after all. He's lucky to be a background character.

But then Ryan says, "You're good with kissing, right?" and Chris feels like he's one answer away from a job he never anticipated and already loves, or being sent packing back to Clovis and a life of loneliness and mediocrity.

So he stutters out an, "Of course." Because he's an actor, and actors are expected to do certain things.

It's not until that moment, when it's suddenly a possibility, that Chris thinks he might not be so okay with it after all.

*

Heather is sweet about the whole thing.

Chris doesn't tell her she's technically his first kiss—he's too embarrassed, and he's already treated like the baby kid-brother of the cast and doesn't want to add anymore fuel to that fire.

It's uncomfortable, and Chris doesn't have to try that hard to act Kurt's complete and utter disinterest.

They laugh a few times, because it's weird and a little awkward, and Heather bites him once and bursts into giggles and apologies.

Her mouth tastes like soda and her lips are soft and slick with a sweet flavored chapstick.

She winks at him jokingly when they finally get the shot, and Chris makes a joke about needing to brush her out of his mouth.

It's not ideal, but it's not horrible.

And it doesn't really count, right?

*

It happens at a club in that brief span of time between the end of the tour and the beginning of shooting for the second season. Somehow they manage to ply him full of alcohol despite the fact that he's underage, and it's that, combined with excessive prompting from the girls, that gives him the courage to dance.

He's not sure where the guy comes from, only that he's attractive and his hands feel good curled around Chris's hips as they dance. It's hot, and they're close, and all the dancing Chris has done in the last year has done marvels for his sense of rhythm and ability to move his body to it.

Chris couldn't tell you how the kissing happens, only that it does. It's a mixture of alcohol and what might be cigarette smoke, combined with sweat, but Chris is too far gone to really notice or care. It's pliant lips and searching tongues and wandering hands, touching him, sliding over him, and Chris has his hand's in the guys hair and _wow_ , kissing is fantastic.

And then someone whistles, or catcalls, or bumps him—something draws Chris from the kiss, and it's enough air in that one gasp of breath for his brain to register what it's just done.

"I—" he gasps, shaking his head, and then pushes away from the guy, from the crowd, and rushes for the door, for fresh, cool air. It smacks him in the face, draws sharp into his lungs, and Chris feels like he's panting. Like maybe he's having a panic attack, except he's not. He just can't _breathe_ right.

His mouth still tastes like someone else's saliva, and he spits it out on the concrete and feels disgusting. 

Chris has never known much about himself in the physical sense. He knows the things he fantasizes about, he knows the right way to touch himself when he masturbates to either draw off his orgasm as long as possible or to make himself come quickly. But he doesn't know what from his fantasies will translate into real life. He doesn't know what it will feel like to have someone else's hands on him, someone else's mouth. He doesn't know what he'll like, and what he won't.

He spits again, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and feels absolutely miserable.

It's his second kiss, and he feels used from it. He feels dirty. And he doesn't like it.

Chris hadn't known if he was someone who could kiss someone without feeling anything, without it meaning anything. He hadn't with Heather, and he'd figured that was as simple as it was. Never mind that he isn't attracted to Heather in any sense of the word. But having made out and groped and _been_ groped by a stranger who's name he can't remember (or, god, did he even _know_ it to begin with?) just makes Chris want to go home and shower.

He makes a mental note, that he'll hopefully remember in the morning, to tell Lea or Dianna or Amber to not let him do that again. They'll protest, he knows, but their his friends and… And he's hoping they'll understand.

Chris doesn't want it like that. Not like that. Never again.

*

His kiss with Max is not something he looks forward to. Max is sweet, and funny, and seems a little uncomfortable (which, given the context of the kiss, isn't the least bit surprising).

But it's distracting, at least. Chris has been dreading this, but it's just a kiss. Just one. And Chris is an _actor_ , he can do this. He has to do this. But he doesn't have to make the experience as unpleasant for Max as it is for himself.

So he cracks jokes, makes light of it. It's a tense situation already, and there's no need to carry it over from the scene into themselves. It seems to work—Max laughs and loosens up, and Chris doesn't have to focus on what his own head is doing.

And when they pull apart in the scene, when they shoot Kurt's, Chris's, reaction, it isn't hard at all to pull up the shock, the disbelief, the horror, and the utter disgust that Chris is supposed to be portraying.

Afterwards, he spends as much time as he can holed up in his trailer, alternating brushing his teeth and chugging Diet Cokes (which, as he does it, is a horrible, awful combination). It isn't as bad at the first time, not now that it has to do with work, which gives Chris at least a little hope.

Like maybe it's something he'll grow out of, or get used to.

*

Chris and Darren know it's coming. They're not sure when, but they know that it will. Eventually. It probably should have happened already, but that's their joint opinion (as actors, costars, and friends).

"I wonder who will kiss who first," Darren says as he wraps noodles around his chopsticks in a way that Chris is pretty sure isn't correct (but he's eating with a fork, so he's not about to say anything).

Chris doesn't answer, because he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't think about it, prefers not to think about it. Because Kurt kissing Blaine, or Blaine kissing Kurt, it's _still_ a kiss between Chris and Darren. One of them is going to have to kiss the other.

Chris isn't sure he'll be able to do it.

He looks over at Darren, noodles hanging out of his mouth as he talks without caring how absolutely disgusting it is… And Chris wonders how in the world he finds it endearing. Darren catches his eye and grins at him, and Chris's eyes drop to his sweet and sour pork as his cheeks heat.

There's going to be a kiss, and it's going to have horrible repercussions on Chris's heart.

*

"Can you both give me a little… More?" The director asks, and they both nod.

Chris knows he's fucking it up. He can't let go of his own mind enough to be completely in Kurt's. He can't look at Darren and see him just as Blaine, and it's fucking up every shot they've done. After another bad take, they call for a break and Chris can't even will himself out of the chair.

"Hey, are you all right?" Darren asks, leaning closer, and Chris is staring at his lips and can't stop. Because as much as he's over-thinking things, he still knows how fucking good it feels to kiss Darren. It'd probably be even better if he just let himself enjoy it, too.

"I—" Chris gives a little hysterical laugh, because what is he supposed to say? _My lips are apparently tied to my heart, and I've had a hard enough time not falling in love with you already_.

"If I completely suck, you can tell me. I mean, I'll probably nurse my wounded ego with a gallon of ice cream later, but I can take it." Darren grins, easy and just… Just like _Darren_. There isn't really a better descriptor for him than his name itself.

"No, you don't suck." Chris finds himself smiling, feeling a little better, and Darren reaches over to squeeze his hand. Chris looks at it, and breathes deep.

"If you're nervous, you don't suck either you know, just…" Darren tips his head to the side. "You don't have to hold back, all right? You're not going to freak me out or anything." Darren winks at him, and Chris actually laughs. But then Darren catches his eyes, and the earnest look he gives Chris is enough to make his breath catch.

When the director calls actions again, Chris listens to Darren. He's not afraid of Darren running and screaming, that's not his fear. He's afraid of pulling back and feeling his heart break. And if that's what he'll have to go through, then he's going to make this one _hell_ of a kiss.

Chris can feel how heated his own skin gets, how short of breath he is, how erratic his pulse gets. But he doesn't see the flush on Darren's skin, the way his breath shudders out of him, and the way his throat bobs until they smack apart reluctantly.

It's not all acting for Chris… It can't be all acting for Darren, can it?

*

Chris feels broken, and furious, and exhilarated, and a thousand different things all at once. Tears prick at his eyes as he crashes into his dressing room, face flushed and heart pounding and he _hates_ Darren. He _hates_ him.

"Chris!" Darren pushes in after him, and Chris covers his face, wishes he would just _go away_.

It had been fun. It had all been fun and goofy and friendly. It had been simple, simple when everything Chris feels about Darren is so complicated that it's like a knotted pile of unnameable _shit_ in Chris's gut.

"Chris," Darren says again, and he sounds out of breath. He tugs Chris's wrist, pulling his hand away from where it's covering his eyes. Darren's face is spotted with sweat, his eyebrows pinched in concern as he stares at Chris in utter confusion. "What the fuck, man?" He asks, somehow still managing to convey worry.

Without thinking about it, Chris wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and turns away again. He hears Darren utter a quiet, " _Shit_."

"I have to change," Chris rushes to say, his voice higher and strained as he fights to tuck all of his emotions back into place. He tries to stop being Chris, to just be Kurt. That's what he always does. When he's Kurt, it's okay to feel what he feels and it doesn't hurt as bad.

But he can't.

He's lucky for the stage, for those few precious moments where everything felt vividly real and it was Darren's touch and bright lights and Chris's blood pounding in his ears. And then everything had gone dark, the lights had gone down, and it had hit Chris in the chest like a solid block of ice-cold reality.

"I'm—"

"Please," Chris says again, his voice breaking. He doesn't want to hear Darren say he's sorry. It's all Darren can say, and Chris knows the second he hears it that the shell surrounding him, keeping him together, will shatter across the dressing room floor. "Please, Darren. Please just go."

He doesn't, not right away. It's silent for a nearly a whole minute before Chris feels the tips of fingers brush at his lower back, sparking sensation up his spinal column and making him close his eyes tightly. Footsteps, the door opening, and then closing again.

Chris opens his eyes and stares at his reflection in the mirror, breathing in short, shallow gasps before he forces himself to take deeper ones, to calm down, to snap Kurt back into place. It's the last night. He's going to have fun with this.

He's not going to think about the kiss again. Not tonight.

*

Chris doesn't stay out. Him and Darren are sharing a _room_ , for fuck's sake, and he doesn't want to deal with it. But Darren will go out, he'll have fun with the cast, and Chris can take a shower, wash Kurt and the tour off his skin, and take a few sleeping pills. He'll just sleep before Darren gets back, and then he won't have to face it tonight.

It seems like the best plan he can come up with, at least. If he just keeps pushing it away, he won't have to face what he's feeling, or what Darren's possibly thinking. If Chris is lucky, Darren will just let it go, and when they meet to start shooting in a few weeks, their friendship will be back to the precarious balance it normally has.

It's only precarious because of Chris. But he'll… It'll go away. Soon. And then it will be just a stable, solid friendship, just like Chris has with everyone else.

Chris comes out of the bathroom already dressed in his pajamas—habit of sharing a room with someone else the last month and a half—and Darren is there, sitting on Chris's bed, head bowed over and nearly between his knees.

He's not supposed to be there. This isn't how this is supposed to go.

Chris doesn't know what to do. He knows that he wants to turn right back around and lock himself in the bathroom—sleeping in a bathtub isn't _ideal_ , but he's not entirely against the idea—except that before he can make the decision to do so, Darren looks at him. That really shouldn't be a deterrent to taking a few steps backwards, but somehow… It is. Chris's entire body locks into place, as if Darren's gaze has the ability to freeze time.

"Chris…" Darren starts, and he looks like he wants to get up. He doesn't, though. He sits there, his eyebrows drawn together almost like he's in pain.

His voice is enough to snap Chris out of his spell, but sleeping in the bathroom is no longer an option. Chris doesn't want to face this, not now, not _ever_ , but seeing that look on Darren's face pulls him forward, one reluctant step at a time. Even with the compulsion, though, Chris only lets himself get so close, and he stares at the bed, the lamp, the floor, the wall—anywhere but straight at Darren—and doesn't say a word.

"Chris," Darren says again, and Chris's eyes flick to Darren's torso (not to his face) and away again, "Look—"

It feels like Chris's throat seizes up, and yet he still manages to force words out.

"It's okay." He speaks quickly, and quietly, holding his elbows as if he's trying to make himself smaller. "It was just a joke, right?" Chris stares at the wall, focusing on his breathing so that the sudden jerk reaction to cry doesn't take hold of him. Chris _doesn't_ cry, not if he can help it, and not if he doesn't have to for his job. He's certainly not going to cry right now for such a stupid reason, especially not in front of Darren. "No harm, no foul."

"You say that…" Darren's voice is far from loud, but it _feels_ loud when Chris is talking so quietly. "But when you came out of the bathroom, you looked at me like…" Darren's voice catches strangely, and Chris has to force himself not to look at Darren now. "You looked at me like I was the last person in the world you wanted to see." Chris looks down at the carpet, holding himself tighter—Darren isn't wrong, but that doesn't mean Chris wants him to _know_ that. "So it's hard for me to believe you when you say there's no harm."

Chris's tongue flicks over his lips, and he remembers the kiss. A kiss that wasn't scripted, that he wasn't prepared for, that _wasn't_ work but is still tied in with it. At least, it would be easier for him if it was. If Chris could just… Think of that as a kiss between Kurt and Blaine, and _not_ between him and Darren, this whole situation would be easier. He could laugh it off for the joke it was obviously meant to be, the grand finale to the little contest they've been having all tour, but he… He can't. He's not sure why, but when he thinks of it, all he can think of is Darren surging toward him, Darren cupping his face, Darren's lips slightly chapped and pressed hot and insistent against his owns.

He doesn't realize he's touching his mouth until Darren says, "You're upset that I kissed you."

Chris rips his hand away and doesn't say anything. He hears the springs of the mattress, and Darren's voice is louder, closer.

"Chris, come on…"

Darren is walking toward him, and Chris needs to… He needs to _not_ be close to Darren right now, will absolutely lose his composure if he is, but he can't seem to make himself move.

"I need you to talk to me, all right? You freaked the fuck out after I did it and wouldn't talk to me, and now you're still not talking to me, and I'll leave, I will, I just…" Darren's voice sounds desperate in a way Chris isn't used to hearing it. "I need _something_ , man. I don't care if you fucking yell at me, or if you want to slap me, or whatever. But give me _something_ , Chris."

Chris's breath shudders out of him, a sign of the lid on his emotions losing its seal. And then, Darren's fingers are on his chin, _making_ Chris look him in the eye, and it's Darren's expression that blows Chris's emotions open.

"Why did you have to kiss me?" Chris asks, voice shaking. "I know kissing is probably _easy_ for you, you probably don't even _think_ about it—I'm sure you can just, you can just kiss anybody, and it's nothing, right?" Chris swallows, thickly, rolling his eyes back to keep the pressure in check. "But it's not like that for everyone. Some people… Some people can't just do that. Kissing _means_ something to them, it…" Chris jerks away from Darren's touch, can't stand it anymore, covers his mouth with his hand so his next words come out muffled, "It means something."

His heart hurts. Chris isn't a stranger to having feelings for another person—has suffered through the dull throb of an unrequited crush several times in his life. But this is… So, so different. What he feels for Darren is different, and it's _painful_ , and he _hates_ it. It hurts so badly right now that Chris wants to press his hand against his chest and rub until it stops, but he knows it doesn't work that way.

"…shit," Darren whispers, but he doesn't step away. He stares at Chris until _that's_ too much for Chris too, and he closes his eyes. He knows that if he looked away, Darren would probably just forcefully restore their eye contact. "It meant something to you."

Chris feels like he's going to vomit. But if he doesn't get himself under control, and fast, then he's going to be showing far too much to someone who should never be seeing those sides of him. His hand curls into a fist before falling away from his face, and he lifts his chin up, eyes glistening with the tears he refuses to shed.

"And it didn't mean anything to you," Chris states. It hurts to say it, but he knows that's what this is. Darren was just goofing around, just like he always is, and Chris has always known that these feelings he's tried to stomp out for _months_ would end up shredding him into pieces. "But I guess, now you know about my… Condition, so just. Don't. In the future. Unless we have to."

Chris's hair is still wet, but all he wants right now is the hot steam of a shower, to clear his sinuses and his head. But it's like Darren senses his intended retreat—he grabs Chris around the wrist, and whispers, "Why do you say condition?"

"Huh?"

"You called it a condition, like it's… Like it's a sickness, or a disease, or something awful—"

"It _is_ something awful. You think I like feeling this way? As an actor, you think I enjoy the way my heart revolts against me every time I have to kiss someone I feel nothing for? How afterwards I feel disgusted with myself? You think I _like_ that?"

"…I made you feel disgusted with yourself?" Darren's voice sounds so small that Chris is looking at him again. Darren's face reads like a picture book, and while Chris might not always have words for what he sees, he still knows how to read the emotions there. This whole conversation, he's looked so pained, and a little upset and angry, but mostly lost and confused. And right this second, he looks so shocked by that statement, so shocked and so… Disgusted himself. Like he hates himself for making Chris feel that way.

And Chris wishes that emotion wasn't there, because it's hard not to fall in love with someone who beats themselves up every time they make you feel bad.

"No, you didn't—"

"But you just said—" Darren stops abruptly, and Chris's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "The kiss meant something to you." Darren blinks slowly, and his breathing sounds shallow, and Chris has no idea what's going on. "…Do… Do I mean something to you?" Darren asks, and Chris's entire body floods with fear. His throat locks up—even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn't be able to. And when he doesn't speak, Darren keeps going. "You weren't disgusted… So you didn't feel nothing? You… You feel something?"

"Darren, please…" Chris whispers, desperate, and at the same time he regains control of his voice, he regains control of his body. He jerks at Darren's hold—he needs to get away, he needs to… _Something_. He just needs to not be here right now. "Please don't do this."

"Don't do what?"

" _This_. Just… Just leave it, okay? Please just…" Chris's heart is tight in his chest, like it's waiting to be dropped and broken into a hundred pieces. Chris can shove the feelings down, can ignore them as best he can, but if Darren voices them, if Darren _rejects_ them… Chris doesn't know. He doesn't know what will happen, and he doesn't want to know. He just wants things to go back to how they were. Why can't Darren understand that? Why did Darren have to kiss him and mess everything up?

"Do I mean something to you?" Darren asks again, and Chris tries to break away again, but Darren doesn't let go of him—in fact, he holds on tighter.

"Of course you do, you're one of my best friends," Chris babbles, hoping that will be enough.

"I don't mean it like that, and you know it." Darren's voice sounds darker, more serious, and Chris tries to will Darren to let go of him, to _drop_ this, with pleading eyes, but he appears absolutely unswayed. "Tell me."

"You obviously already know." Chris's voice wobbles, and the tears he's held back since the kiss are starting to break through his walls of defenses. "Please, please don't make me…"

"Tell me." Darren tugs on Chris's wrist until he's closer, and there's so little room between them that it feels like the air capacity in the entire room has lowered, like Chris suddenly doesn't have enough oxygen. "I want to hear you say it."

"Want to hear me say what?" And Chris feels it, that single tear that's betraying him, the lone drop that's a precursor for what is sure to be a tumultuous downpour. "Want to hear me say that _of course_ you mean something to me? Want to hear me say that being around you is the best and worst part of my day? Want to hear me say that you have made me feel more in these last six months than I've felt in a lifetime? Want to hear me say that I have been trying to not fall in love with you for months? Want to hear me say that I've failed horribly at that? Want to—"

And Chris isn't sure what more he could say with his broken, choked off voice because Darren doesn't give him the chance. Darren kisses him, sudden and hard and different from the kiss Chris experienced a few hours ago. Darren's lips are softer now, but they press harder, like they're trying to tell Chris something if only he'd let them.

"What?" Chris mumbles in dazed confusion, and Darren isn't kissing him, but he is brushing his lips over Chris's. It's… Weird, but nice.

"I did want to hear all of those things," Darren whispers, and feeling someone's words against his mouth is incredibly intimate, Chris realizes. "And I want you to hear something, too." Darren's lips drag along Chris's cheek and to his ear, and Chris can't help but hold his breath. "You mean something to me, too," Darren whispers. "And so does this."

Darren kisses him again, and Chris melts into it, throwing his arms around Darren's neck as Darren's hands fist in his hair. It's heat and pressure, and their entire bodies pressed against each other. It's _passionate_ , Chris realizes, as he moans against Darren's mouth, and it ripples through Chris's entire body.

" _Holy shit_ ," he mutters when they break apart, and Darren chuckles as he nuzzles against Chris's cheek.

"You're so adorable," Darren hums, and Chris blinks as he draws back to stare at Darren, like he doesn't quite believe what's happening—what he's being _given_.

"Is this actually happening?" Chris mutters.

"…do you want it to?" Darren asks, sounding unsure.

"Yes," Chris answers without hesitating. "I just… Have you ever wanted something so badly, but you resigned yourself to never having it?" He can't stop himself from gently touching Darren's face—despite having shaved right before the show, there's a little rasp of stubble, and Chris's chest clenches. Darren just… Means _so much_ , so much more than Chris has ever even admitted to himself.

"I have, actually…" Darren muses. "But I'm practically holding it in my arms right now, so… It doesn't seem so far out of my reach anymore, you know?"

"Oh god," Chris groans, dropping his forehead to Darren's shoulder. "You can't just _say_ stuff like that. What am I supposed to do when you say things like that?"

"You could kiss me, I wouldn't be opposed," Darren teases, and Chris smiles into the skin of Darren's neck (he's never smiled into anyone's skin before, but Darren's skin is the kind of skin that smiles should be pressed into). "Besides, you should get used to it."

Chris just breathes for a few moments, and his arms tighten around Darren's as Darren's tighten around him (he's not sure when Darren's arms got around his waists, but Chris isn't sure of a lot of things at this moment).

When he finally lifts his face back up to look at Darren, he can't restrain the small smile starting to form on his lips.

"I should?" Chris asks, daring to hope in a way he hasn't let himself in a long time.

"Absolutely."

Chris always imagined what his first kiss would be like. He grew up reading and loving fairy tales, and while he never really believed in magical kisses, it never stopped him from longing for that perfect kiss that seemed to make everything right in the world. His first kiss, of course, was far from that, and his kiss with Darren now certainly doesn't have any magical properties or erase all the difficulties in life (those Chris has faced, or the ones they will now have to face together).

Still, Chris never knew that a kiss could warm his entire body, could make it him as if he was a musical instrument that suddenly needed to sing.

It might not be magical, but that doesn't stop it from being perfect just the same.

**Author's Note:**

> [Read & Reblog on Tumblr?](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/81867270748/just-a-kiss)


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